What you can't see
by Thefreakoutsideyourwindow
Summary: What you can't see...can't hurt you right? It seems that isn't the case for poor colony Canada, as something dark has followed him from his tribe days and intends to sneak its way into his life. But what is it? And will England be able to stop it in time? Rated M for swearing and gore in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: This was originally my very first fanfic, but I wrote a large amount (so far) on paper, so it takes a while to type up. Anyway, Enjoy!**

* * *

**What you can't see**

Prologue-A rather unholy hour

He knew he wasn't going to get any sleep this night. Matthew knew that. Yet as he gazed up at the off white cracked plaster on the wall, waiting to fall and be released from its misery, he wished himself to go to sleep.

Violet eyes glanced over to his right to find a simple yet comfortable enough oak bed, blankets sprawled in every way possible, and a goose feather pillow being hugged to death by a sleeping Alfred. His cow lick in all its exuberance bobbed up and down as he rhythmically breathed in and out. Sky blue eyes were replaced by heavy eye-lids, like shop doors slammed and quickly locked shut on a bank holiday Monday. Mumbles were elicited as the colony would occasionally toss and turn, such as:

"Stk 'm up."

or

"Don li, scns."

The metal sheriff badge which he so dearly cherished lay discarded by the side of his bed, gleaming slightly in the moonlight, just waiting for an unsuspecting Brit to tread on it and curse like a sailor in the following morning.

Lazily, Canada shifted his gaze to around. Splintered moonlight gently eased through the thin, dull lilac curtains into the room, illuminating the dust as it twirled like fairies across the area.

Various toys were littered across the floor, ranging from building blocks, to toy soldiers, and even a toy horse. Striped yellow and orange wallpaper adorned the room, giving it a very simplistic yet playful feel. Teddies and dolls alike leant against each other protectively on a white wooden shelf, their dull gazes piercing his thoughts.

Looking away in mild discomfort, Matthew slowly petted his polar bear, _kuma...kuma...kuma_ _something_, allowing the fluffy white fur to glide through his fingers. Letting out a hushed sigh, he cautiously pulled off his duvet, so as not to wake up kumagoro, and swung himself around on the mattress, letting his legs dangle loosely over the bed.

Placing his feet on the aged wooden floor boards, which gave out a moan as he did so, he stood, steadying himself on the bedpost as for a child it seemed like a bit of a drop. It almost seemed as if the cold swam around him, catching the back of his heels as he tip-toed silently, disturbing the once unmoving air as he made his way to the door. Matthew turned the door know ever so slightly, hands grasping on cold brass, allowing the door to open marginally, letting a crack of light slide into the bedroom. He took one last look at his rowdy and energetic brother, and upon noticing he was far too occupied in dreamland to notice, slipped out into the semi-heated hallway, closing the door swiftly behind him.

* * *

The hallway was furnished as if he was in some kind of palace, not England's home, greatly different to the one he and papa France had once shared. A large red carpet was splayed atop dark wood, the patterns on them hinting of exotic places and silenced secrets. Burgundy wallpaper and ebony panelling strode across the walls, giving off waves of wealth, with gentle candle light to accompany them as candles were mounted on the walls in the finest silver holders.

Deep thick red curtains blocked any and all light daring to enter through the windows and into the house. The windows were made of seemingly thin glass with wood in-between each long rectangle, making it seems less grand, but not undermining the overall image. A grandfather clock lay situated at the far end of the hallway to his left, old and worn with time.

Squinting, Matthew managed to read off the yellow and aged face and whispered to nobody but himself,

"11:25."

Matthew had never suffered from insomnia, and yet as of late he found himself unable to be grasped by the tug of restful sleep-at least during the night. Unconsciously placing a hand on his chin, he worked through the possible reasons of what may be causing this, but drew up nothing but blanks. He had been living with England for around five months now, so feeling homesick was probably out of the question, and he never ate any of his scones before going to bed, so what could it be?

As if on cue, Canada's attention slowly drifted to a very thick wooden door on the far right hand side of the hallway, of which was slightly ajar. He had never been into that room himself, but saw England, enter it on multiple occasions. On closer inspection, he remembered that England always locked the door behind him, and even without that, a door that heavy doesn't just lean ajar.

Without realising he was doing so, Canada slowly started making his way towards the door, all thoughts of confronting England about not being able to sleep were vacated out of his mind. With each step he took, Canada became more and more out of balance, his once shy yet curious sparkling violet eyes glazed over. Chills danced across his spine, yet he made no effort to quell them, or in this case, he found he couldn't.

The door was only a few steps away now, and it seemed that any and all light that came from the hallway went to waste, as none could penetrate the sheer oblivion behind that door. Bile rose in his throat as his hand reached out for the dulled door knob, yet he found himself unable to stop. Curiosity was no longer his motive, and he found that it had been replaced by a dormant feeling, of which was powered by an endless supply of compliance to whatever it was that drove him there in the first place.

His hand hovered mere centimetres above it, cool breezes harassing his neck as he reached to clench it. Swallowing hard, Matthew finally reached for the door knob in a swift and sudden movement, but his expression quickly changed to that of slight shock as a wave of dizziness overcame him, colours blurred as the ground rushed towards him, and he was accompanied by an all encompassing wave of black.

* * *

"...atthew..."

"...Matthew..."

Sounds swung in and out of his grasp as he futilely reached for them, but found he couldn't as he was weighed down by an invisible force, accompanied by black. Despite this, he still pushed forward.

"...Come on lad..."

Feeling a strong yet reassuring pressure on his arm, Matthew forced eyelids he didn't know he was keeping closed to open, focusing blearily on a confused Englishman.

"There you are," England breathed with relief, but was soon replaced with concern and a slight undertone of irritation, "Just what in blazes were you doing out here at this time of night?"

Matthew looked around, focusing on nothing in particular, making mental notes as he did so. He was still on the ground, but his back was supported firmly by the Englishman, eyebrows knitted in worry. Glancing over to the clock, he noticed that the hands had hardly moved, only revealing to 11:30.

"Well?" Arthur asked again, all previous irritation had been wiped out and was now engulfed in worry due to his sons silence.

"Ah." Matthew spoke in slight surprise, his hand going to his mouth as he flushed a bright shade of pink, embarrassed from making him worry by remaining silent. Clumsily fumbling with words, Matthew faced England and mumbled, "Couldn't sleep..."

Arthur's intense stare slipped away but a note of curiosity remained as he questioned,

"But this isn't the way to my chambers...what _were_ you doing out here?"

Matthews gaze diverted to that of his fists balled up, clenching his thin satin nightgown. What was he going to tell him? There was no way he would believe a door of all things put him into a trance like state.

The door.

He quickly snapped his head around to the door in question, earning a tilt of a head and quizzical look from the Englishman-his arm now propped up on one knee, letting Canada sit up of his own free will. However, upon turning, it was clearly visible that the door was firmly shut, and any signs of it once being open were gone.

For a few moments, Canada stared at the door confused. He was sure it was open beforehand, so why...

Stopping his thoughts (before they amounted to something more), he returned to Arthur and quickly answered,

"I was going to the bathroom."

Lying proved easy enough as long as it was done quickly, and despite not being the rebellious type, he knew well enough that England would lose his marbles if they entered one of his private rooms.

Matthews answer was met by a relieved sigh from the Brit as he replied,

"Well go do your business and then it's off to bed with you."

Arthur ruffled Matthews hair and stood, helping him up in the process.

"Don't want you feeling tired in the morning now do we?" He offered a parental smile of comfort and support, and Matthew shyly took it.

"Alright Dad." He answered quietly.

"Good night son." Arthur murmured as he gave Matthew a goodnight kiss on the forehead, and, after leading him to the wash room,returned to whatever tiring work was keeping him up that late.

He looked into the bathroom mirror illuminated by candles, and noticed translucent yet ever growing visible dark circles under his eyes and sighed.

Seems he wasn't getting any sleep tonight either.


	2. Chapter 1-Church, tea and candles

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**A/N: I just want to say thank you to Illead who currently is the only follower of this story. (My prologue sucks :'D) Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 1-Church, tea and candles**

Glasses and plates clanged merrily to the upbeat buzz of the Sunday morning bustle. Sunlight proudly strode through the kitchen windows, illuminating a happy scene powered by an almost animated Alfred.

"So then," he swallowed, finishing off his practically incarcerated pancake of which England had the delight in learning that you need milk to make it a mixture, "I got out this HUGE rope and tied up every last baddie!" He exclaimed, never missing a single detail explaining his dream last night. England was by the kitchen sink, washing up his and Matthews dishes (as they had a reasonably sized breakfast) and held an aloof smile on his face, whilst taking note of everything he said.

Matthew however was the complete opposite. What was once neat and wavy blonde hair that swooped down with grace was now nothing but a tangled mess. His lilac eyes, normally keen and attentive, looked weary as his face was pushed at an odd angle as he rested his head on his palm, directing the weight onto the sturdy oak table.

"Well Matthew?" Alfred asked excitedly.

"Whu?" He replied tiredly, focusing his attention on Alfred, unsure of what he said.

"Which one would you want?" Alfred pressed, not noticing the exhaustion laced in his brothers voice.

Silence shifted awkwardly through the air until another voice broke it.

"I think someone didn't get enough sleep last night." Arthur interjected, taking on a parental tone.

All Canada could reply to that was a mumbled sorry as he gazed down at his feet hanging off his chair. England, noticing his discomfort and slight embarrassment quickly picked up Alfred's plate and suggested that they go and wash up for church. Arthur himself wasn't extremely religious (at least not compared to the Italies) but believed it would be wise by following America's people when staying there. Besides, church was a much more appealing option than a mountain of paperwork.

* * *

Upon hurrying upstairs and going to the wash room, Alfred would occasionally glance at Matthew as they brushed their hair, noting just how tired he looked. As he racked his heroic brain for ideas, he came up with one, and quickly announced,

"Hey Matt."

"Yes Alfred?" He responded somewhat exasperated.

"If something scary is keeping you up I have the perfect solution!" He exclaimed, eyes wide and alight with passion.

Halting brushing his hair, he turned and looked at Alfred. For once, Matthew didn't look at him as if he were a lunatic, or baby, or both. This time, he looked at him with his amethyst eyes expectantly waiting for an answer as something else accompanied them. Something Alfred has never seen on his brother before. It looked like worry, or desperation - or fear.

Alfred was taken slightly aback by this, but answered none-the-less.

"Well, when England reads me stories, they always say that light scares bad things away-like daylight or candles- that's why I always keep mine lit on stormy nights!"

Instead of criticising the fact that it was a rather childish belief, or that if you knocked it over in your sleep it could very well burn the house down, his twin simply nodded and faced the mirror again, brushing his hair, but murmured a shy 'Thank you' that only added to Alfred's 'heroic side'.

"No problem!" Alfred practically beamed, clenching his fist and thumbing to his face,

"After all, I am the hero!"

And at that, Matthew couldn't help but smile.

* * *

The trip to church had been mundane, despite the beautiful scenery that lay itself before the family and the crisp fresh fall air that accompanied it, filled with birdsong. The day was bright yet chilly, frost clinging to the empty husks of leaves and every bony branch. They had travelled to church in a horse and cart, modest but elegant none the less, with a flap that could be pulled up if required, and was lead by two sturdy chestnut mares.

As the cart drew up, Matthew glanced at the bustles of people, flocks of black, grey and white as they slowly crammed their way into church. Brass bells clanged and tolled mercilessly, sending shock waves of sound through the very bodies of people as they entered the building together, hand in hand, with Arthur in the middle and a boy on each end, all in their Sunday best. Heavy wooden doors relented as they were pushed open and the family was greeted by organ music and enigmatic choir hymns.

Although Alfred may have always found church service boring to some degree, Matthew always managed to find peace and solace in a place like this. Alone in his thoughts, yet supported by others. The whole building and concept combined just had a welcoming and fulfilling feel to him.

Warm chatter bubbled around the church as people warmly greeted one another, catching up on recent events. Arthur himself was currently occupied making small talk with the priest, shaking his hand, and in the process, letting go of Alfred and Matthews. The brothers looked up at each other, a smirk gracing their lips as they loudly ran off to talk to the other children attending church, unable to be stopped by an aggravated Brit.

* * *

The church service went smoothly, save for a few times when Arthur would scold Alfred for being too noisy and disrespectful. Yet even though the service had finished, it seemed that they were still there, thanks to a certain 'English gentleman' being unable to refuse any request for help. The said request coming from a young lady lengthened their stay. Although Alfred was in favour of being heroic and helping others, surely they could move boring bibles by themselves, no? Needless to say, Alfred was bored out of him mind and his brother was doing little to dispel it.

Turning to his brother, Alfred proceeded to poke him multiple times in the chest and head, before getting an annoyed yet quiet,

"What is it Alfred?" In reply.

"I'm bored!" He whined, grabbing the edge of a pew and started to swing himself around pulling on his arm, a firm pout on his face until he realised something.

"Hey Matthew, let's play tag!"

His brother shifted uncomfortably before answering,

"Won't Arthur get mad?"

"Of course not!" Alfred easily brushed off, "After all, he can't be mad at something he doesn't see!"

"But-" The timid voice was interrupted yet again by the boisterous other.

"Besides, he won't mind if we stay in the church, practically everyone is gone right?"

Matthew seemed to brighten at the statement, but was still slightly hesitant.

Kumajirou- who had been in Canada's arms the whole time- looked up to him and spoke in his usually high voice reassuringly,

"He won't notice just one game."

With no other visible way out of the situation, Canada sighed in defeat as America grinned in triumph-and before he could say anything else, America quickly exclaimed 'Tag!' hitting his arm before running off down some corridor. Canada simply shrugged and chased after him with kumajirou in arm.

No going back now.

…

After running around for what seemed like an eternity, Matthew bent forward, a hand on one knee as the other was holding kumataro and panted heavily. He was supposed to be the invisible one, so why couldn't he find and catch Alfred?

As if planned by God, Matthew heard a stifled giggle from around a corner, his head shooting up in adrenaline. Without daring to waste another moment (as he knew how fast his brother was), he dashed towards the area he heard the sound, and wasn't disappointed. Coming across a red-faced Alfred, he swiftly hit him in the arm and promptly shouted,

"Tag!" Running off.

"Oh no you don't!" Alfred teased, catching up with him as they dashed through the hallways, not a care in the world as they both turned a corner and went face first into a very large, squishy and irritated obstacle.

**England's POV**

"There, finished" He stated to no one but himself, letting his back straighten accompanied by cracks and groans from being bending over so long as he placed him hands on his hips and leant back. They had quite a few of those bibles to move and he could understand why they asked for his help.

Though it did take a bit longer than expected...

A lot longer...

"Alright boys, we can go home now." he announced cheerily, pivoting on his heels to face...

Nothing.

Or more precisely, empty spaces where Matthew and Alfred should have been.

"Alfred?"

"Matthew?"

He called out, but got no response as his voice echoed throughout the vast building, making his stomach clench with worry. Although this was a nice community, who knows what a person would do if they happened to stroll by and pick up two innocent and unsuspecting young children who were only looking for attention and amusement.

And God knows what the bloody frog may have taught Matthew about 'fun'.

Before his thoughts could fester any longer, he was brought back to reality by a booming voice that sounded as if it was lecturing children.

Looks like he didn't have to find them after all.

**Canada's POV**

In all of Matthews young colonised years of life, he had never-EVER-heard someone shout with such ferocity. You'd think that he was trying to wake the dead! He was so close to catching Alfred. _So close_. But it turned out that the priest was still here-and he wasn't too fond of children.

Canada looked up at the man with fearful eyes,tearing up at the corners whilst Alfred stood in front of him semi-protectively, semi-cowering as the feared old man's voice reverberated throughout them, shaking their bodies to the core.

"How DARE you be so disrespectful in the house of God!" The figure boomed, a veins in his head pulsing just like England's did when he was mad, except this was raw and true malice.

"If you weren't white, I wouldn't be able to tell you apart from those savages!"

Savages.

The very word itself tore through him, taking both him and his brother aback, yet Matthew more so. He had lived in peace and harmony-heck, he had practically lived _with_ them, as one of their own. They taught him the ways of the land, of Gods and spirits, they fed him when he was hungry and gave him a warm bed to sleep in, asking for nothing in return but his good-will. They healed him when he was hurt and acted as the parents he never had, treating him with love and equality. To call those loving and cherishing people mere _savages,_ well...needless to say, it really him home.

But before either one of them could counter that statement, another loud voice penetrated the hall, but was filled with inquisition and protectiveness instead of sheer anger.

"What seems to be the problem then?" England asked as he waltzed up to the man in question, instinctively putting Matthew and Alfred behind him.

The priest who was once full of strong will faltered and even seemed to take a step back in the Englishman's presence, startled by his air of authority. In spite of the falter in confidence, he regained it, yet just as he was about to explain the gravity of the situation, Alfred's cheery and slightly obnoxious voice cut in,

"He thought we were savages!"

"Savages?" England questioned, his voice pinched in in disbelief which soon changed to fury.

"How _dare_ you call my boys savages!" He exploded, fists clenching at his sides, threatening to grab hold of the man's collar in front of him.

Said of which was terrified now. He had backed up against the wall, face as pale as death itself, shaking his head side to side vigorously in an attempt to shoo the Brit away. Choked sobs and failed beginnings of words escaped through his mouth as mere squeaks as England continued on with his rant.

"And if you _ever_ even touch a single head on their heads again, I shall see to it personally. UNDERSTAND?!" At the end of his sentence his voice raised to a somewhat high yet still dangerous tone, of which the twins had never heard in all of their years of lecturing as his emerald eyes blazed with fury.

The priest could only whimper as he hastily scurried off to God knows where to escape to where England could no longer reach him without leaving his boys. With a sigh, Arthur turned and knelt down on one knee so he was level with the boys, placing a reassuring hand on each shoulder.

"There, now that that's all over, how about we go home for a nice cup of tea, hmm?" He announced, his voice regaining the gentle velvet texture he always used when around them, emanating kindness and understanding.

"But I must ask, what exactly did you do to set the man off like that?"

Alfred and Matthew, both startled from the whole previous event, turned to face each other, tears forgotten as they sheepishly grinned from ear to ear and both faced England with voices half inquiring, half stating,

"Tag?"

* * *

Surprisingly, Arthur hadn't been very mad at them. He merely gave each boy a light scolding, and after he was convinced they were sincere, let them go play outside the house. The day itself passed in relative peace (minus the church incident) and soon turned to night. After one of Arthur's disgusting meals and two tricky baths later (Alfred was a good scary story teller if he wanted to be, and poor Matthew continuously believed it-Arthur might scrub as bad as he cooks!), the boys were situated in front of the living room fireplace. Alfred was playing with his toy soldiers and Matthew, much to Arthur's delight, asked to try some of his tea-of which he was sipping right now.

After about half an hour of this, England re-entered the living room from his study, and announced,

"Alright boys, up to bed."

Alfred, as per usual, let out a moan of complaint, but shuffled along anyway. Matthew simply put away the toys he and Alfred were playing with, and quietly followed after him. Once they had brushed their teeth, been tucked into bed and had multiple stories read to them (thanks to Alfred's stubborn insistence) England stood up quietly so as not to disturb them and made his way to the door, whispering,

"Goodnight Lads." as he did so.

But before he exited the room, a barely audible voice stopped him.

"Um...England?"

He turned to find Matthew sitting up in bed, much to his surprise and he walked back over to his bed, kneeling and replying,

"Yes Matthew?"

"Well, um, I was wondering..." Canada shifted awkwardly under the covers, his shy personality getting the best of him.

"Go on lad, spit it out." Arthur remarked, leaning over his bedside in fear something was wrong.

Matthew gathered all of the courage he could muster and scrapped what little embarrassment he felt and asked,

"Can I leave the candle lit by my bedside?"

Arthur, ever knowing Arthur, simply smiled kindly and asked,

"One of Alfred's horror stories?"

Matthew simply nodded, it would be the best and most reasonable explanation to go with.

England simply returned the nod, standing as he took out a match box from his pocket and swiftly lit the candle, blowing out the match afterwards.

"How's that?" He asked, going back to his son's bedside.

"Good, thank you." Canada replied, holding and snuggling his already asleep polar bear, the gentle candle light licking at their features.

"Alright then." He smiled warmly, proceeding to kiss Matthew on the forehead.

"Goodnight Matthew." Arthur whispered.

"Goodnight Dad." Matthew replied, sinking into his pillows as his father went to the door and, taking one final look to make sure everything was truly alright, walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.

For a few minutes, Matthew lay just staring at the ceiling, eventually lulling himself to the brink of sleep. Yet as he was doing so, a very biting and unwelcome chill entered the room, and the candle next to him was swiftly extinguished.

He knew for a fact that all of the windows were firmly shut, there were no drafts, Alfred was fast asleep and England hadn't re-entered the room. All of these thoughts raced through his mind and made him squirm with fear as he turned onto his side, pulling the duvet over his head.

It seemed that candles didn't work either.


End file.
